Page 10 of Starstruck with the Krampus

She stares at my clawed hand for a long minute, and the only indication that she’s surprised is a quick intake of her breath. Without looking up at me, she runs her thumbs over my fingers, right down to my claws, then flips my hand so it’s palm-side up and presses those thumbs into the heel of my palm.

I stifle a groan. To have her finally touching me is more than I’d hoped for tonight. I wanted to observe her from afar, see her safely home, then leave her be. But that little asswipe of a witch derailed my plans. My blood still thrums too quickly through my veins—though it’s possible that Gianna is to blame for that. I’m always on edge when she is near, and now more than ever.

“Will you look at me?” I ask when I can’t hold it back any longer.

My voice is deeper now, clearly inhuman. That glamour spell is worth its very hefty price and allows me to move freely through human society, even if some of the people I meet sense that I’m not like them. Gianna must have sensed it, too, but she never ran away from me.

Now, she lifts her chin, her gaze going from my hand to my chest to my chin. Knowing we should get things out of the way, I smile at her, showing my fangs. Her fingers twitch in my grip, tightening, then relaxing again, and her scent follows the same pattern—she’s surprised and intrigued, not scared. I wouldn’t have shown myself to her if I’d scented her fear. The last thing I want to do is terrify her.

Finally, she meets my gaze, her brown eyes wide, taking in every single detail of my face.

“I knew I saw your eyes shine golden,” she whispers.

Slowly, she palms my cheek, as if she wants to convince herself that I’m real. I bow my head, helping her, and she rewards me with a small smile. Then she slides her hand up, right to my left horn. I grit my teeth because I know what will follow—but even so, the sensation of having my horns touched by this beautiful, fearless human almost brings me to my knees.

“Ungh,” I groan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh!” Gianna pulls her hand away, dropping me like a hot potato. “I’m so sorry.”

I straighten again, then bite my tongue, hoping the pain will be enough to get my dick to calm down. “I should have warned you,” I admit. “My horns are very sensitive.”

She stares at me, and I see the moment she realizes what’s going on. Her sinfully red lips form a little ‘O’ of surprise. “It didn’t hurt?” she asks, her voice husky.

“Only in the best way,” I assure her.

She takes a step back, smirking. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then she crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side. “So…you’re a demon?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “Close, sweetheart. Descended from demons, as the lore goes, but these days, we call ourselves Krampus.”

“Krampus,” she repeats. “Is that German?”

I lean my back on the door and cross my arms, too, both to mimic her position and to keep myself from reaching for her. “It is. My ancestors came to America in the early twentieth century. Lots of sinners here.”

She frowns. “Sinners?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how much to share with her. “We see people’s sinful thoughts,” I say finally. Better to get the truth out now, before we take this any further. “And before we became…more civilized, we used to punish the worst ones. Every year around the winter solstice, my ancestors would round up those who didn’t deserve another chance and…take care of them.”

I don’t want to go into detail on that. Written accounts of the olden days are rare, but the legends my parents raised me on say that Krampus either tortured, mutilated, killed, oratetheir victims. I’m not entirely sure which option I like the least, but I don’t need to burden Gianna with any of them.

She gazes at me thoughtfully. “Like you took care of Brandon?”

I incline my head. “Kind of like that, yes.”

She studies me, eyes narrowed. “What kind of bad thoughts are we talking about?” Motioning with her hand, she adds, “Like, actual murder and stuff?”

She seems calm on the outside, but her heartbeat picks up. I hear the flutteringthump-thumpof it and see the pulse in herneck, and I grin, because I know what she’s trying to ask without saying the words out loud.

“I would punish a murderer, yes,” I tell her. “We don’t care so much about sloth or gluttony these days, but greed and wrath always spike my interest.” I push away from the door and take a step toward her. “Still, my favorite has to be lust.”

Gianna swallows, her calm demeanor faltering. “L-lust?”

“Mm-hm.” I circle her slowly, my tail twitching in anticipation. “Can you imagine what kinds of thoughts someone might think if they thought they were private? What kinds of fantasies they might conjure up?”

She tracks me with her gaze. “That’s intrusive, isn’t it?”

I raise one shoulder in a shrug and take another step closer. “I switch the gift off for the most part. I have no wish to know what my colleagues are thinking. But when it comes to you…” I stop and drop my gaze to the floor between us. “When it comes to you, Gianna, I’m powerless to resist.”

Her sharp inhale has me looking up at her again. She’s flushed all the way down to her chest, and I wonder if the redness on her skin extends to her breasts. I think for a moment I’ve finally crossed the line. That she’ll smack me or scream at me—and most importantly, leave.

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